


Those Rumors, They Have Big Teeth (Waiting For It, I Want It)

by prouvairablehulk



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 17:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/pseuds/prouvairablehulk
Summary: “Breaking news: Barry Allen does nothing for the Rogues except look pretty and get fucked by the bosses.”





	Those Rumors, They Have Big Teeth (Waiting For It, I Want It)

**Author's Note:**

> written as a fill for prompt 152 on the Legends of Superflarrow kink meme: Barry x Mick x Len, Mick and Len run half the city and Barry is there kept man, bonus if Barry's still a speedster but wasn't raised by Joe. Barry isn't a speedster, here, but he wasn't raised by Joe, so half a bonus point, I guess?

Barry leaves the biggest tip he can given the breakdown of change in his wallet, grins at the barista, and ignores the whispering of the other patrons as he breezes back out of Jitters and onto the street. 

“Don’t let them bother you.” says Shawna, falling into step next to him. Of all the Rogue lieutenants, Shawna is the one Barry’s closest to, not in the least because she reminds him of Iris. “Everyone talks.”

“They –“ Barry gestures back at the people in Jitters, still sneaking glances and whispering – “don’t. It’s the people who complain about me sleeping my way into power that bother me.”

Shawna shoots him a look. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am where I am because I’m sleeping with the bosses, it’s just they all assume I have all this power and I just don’t. I’m literally just sleeping with them. No politics involved. And I like it that way.” 

Shawna giggles, and wraps her arm around his waist as they continue down the street. 

“Is that the news you want me to put out? Ah, yes, Barry Allen is the bosses’s kept man and that is all he is and all he aspires to be within this organization.” 

“Breaking news: Barry Allen does nothing for the Rogues except look pretty and get fucked by the bosses.” 

They lean into each other, giggling, and turn left, back towards the building that houses Len and Micks penthouse apartment. 

“What’s next on your list of things to do today?” 

“Gotta go check up on some of our people in the retail business, make sure everything’s in order. Mark’s coming with, which is always fun. And you?”

It’s Barry’s turn to shoot her a look now. Shawna laughs. 

“Alright then, Barry. Go look pretty and get fucked.” 

Barry makes the most extravagant over-the-top bow he can, and swaggers past the doorman to the soundtrack of Shawna losing it. 

Barry Allen grew up in a boys’ group home after his mother’s murder and his father’s conviction for it, worked his way into a CCU merit scholarship, studied chemistry, and then proceeded to get recruited straight out of college by the Central City Mob. Logically, he should have gone straight into the drug manufacturing part of the business, but at the three-week-mark meeting with the bosses, things took a dramatically different turn. 

Barry remembers that meeting with the crystal clarity that other people remember being told they’re receiving the promotion that will kickstart their career, or a marriage proposal, or any other life changing event. He’d walked in, sat down, glanced up at Len Snart seated behind the desk in his pristine black suit with its black shirt and black vest and ice blue tie and Mick Rory standing at Snart’s shoulder in a worn-in black leather jacket and a white t-shirt, and then immediately started staring at his knees. 

“Something the matter, Mister Allen?” Snart had asked, voice low and rich and borderline mocking and Barry had flinched a little and felt the heat rushing under his skin.

“No, sir.” he had said, eyes still fixedly down. “You’re just a little intimidating, Mister Snart, sir.”

Snart had laughed at that, warm and delighted. 

“Red’s a pretty color on you, Mister Allen.” 

Three days later he was summoned back to that office, and met with a grinning Rory and a smug looking Snart. 

“We have a – proposition for you. Please, Mister Allen, take a seat.”

Barry had been grateful for the offer, sinking into the seat to take his weight off his fear-shaky knees. 

“Mick and I find ourselves in agreement about most things, but rarely about people.” Snart had begun. Rory snorted a laugh at that, and folded his arms over his broad chest in a way that just accentuated his muscles and Barry swallowed, hard. “So it is more than a rarity that we find ourselves in agreement about the kind of people we want in our bed.”

“By which he means fucking never.” grumbled Rory. 

“By which I mean only once or twice.” Snart said, his tone a gentle tease. 

“Forgive me for asking, Mister Snart sir, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Mister Allen,” said Snart, and then, softer, “Barry.” 

Barry remembers feeling his eyes widen. 

“Oh.” he’d said, flattered and surprised and pleased and turned on and confused all at once. 

“We agreed on you, doll.” said Rory. “And if you’re willing, we’d like to keep you.”

“With a test run first, of course.” Snart had informed him. 

“What kind of test run?” Barry had asked. Which led to Barry straddling Snart – Len, call me Len, he’s Mick – Len’s spread legs, arms wrapped around Len’s neck, getting kissed to within an inch of his life. 

“Damn, Lenny, that’s pretty.” purred Mick, curling a hand around the back of Barry’s neck. “Let me have a go?” 

And somehow that segued into Barry getting bent over the desk and fingered till he was clawing at the wood and had gone non-verbal, at which point Len and Mick had switched places and Barry had been maneuvered back into Mick’s lap so he could ride him, Len’s hands curled around Barry’s face while he delivered something between encouragement and blatantly filthy dirty talk in a sultry tone that would have sounded fake coming from anyone else. After they’d finished, after Barry came screaming on Mick’s cock and Mick had bitten down on Barry’s shoulder as his hips twitched, after Mick had lifted Barry off his dick and pushed him to his knees so Len could come all over his face while murmuring how pretty Barry looked while all marked up and claimed, after they’ve cleaned up and redressed, Len had looked Barry level in the eye. There was something there, something possessive and delightful and warm that slithered down Barry’s spine to settle hot and powerful in Barry’s stomach. 

“Be ours.” he’d said. It was an offer, not a question. “Be ours, stay with us, never want for anything again.” 

“And what’s the price?” asked Barry, because it might have been the best offer he’d ever heard, but it’s Len Snart and Mick Rory and Barry’s heard stories. 

“The price is that you’d belong to us.” said Mick. “No one else. Not under any circumstances.” 

“Can I think on it until the morning?” Barry had asked, wanting a chance to consider when not sex-drunk. 

“Of course, Scarlet.”   
In the morning, Barry had considered over a cup of coffee. It had taken him a remarkably short time to decide that the plausible deniability of being a kept man instead of a drug chemist would suit him better, as would the truly fantastic sex. Look, that night had been incredible, and statistically they could only get better, right?

He’d moved into their apartment a week later. 

The elevator up to the home he shares with Len and Mick takes about 30 seconds once the doors close, and Barry slips down the corridor at top speed so he can let himself back in. 

“There you are!” says Mick, from the couch. He’s sprawled out so he’s taking up the whole length, with a movie playing behind him – it’s Hellboy, and therefore Barry is immediately drawn over – both he and Mick adore the movie. “Where’d you go?”

“Coffee with Shawna.” Barry tells him, flinging himself down on top of Mick’s slightly squishy and overall really comfortable bulk. “Not as fun as being here, of course, but always pleasant.”

Mick grins, warm and home, and Barry can’t help but kiss him. Naturally, by the time Len arrives some indeterminable amount of time later, they’ve progressed thoroughly on from kissing – neither of them have shirts anymore and Barry’s almost entirely undressed.

“I can’t take you two anywhere.” says Len, but he’s grinning. Barry grins back. Someday, this will end badly. Someday, the DA will have enough evidence to prove Barry knows exactly what Len and Mick are doing. Someday, Joe West will be able to arrest him, rather than just glare disapprovingly every time he catches sight of Barry. Someday, Barry will be in prison remembering days like this. 

Today is not that day. Today is for Len, and Mick, for the flame and the frost inked on Barry’s skin, for warmth and love and safety. Barry rolls off Mick, sure to sneak in a nice slow grind before he does, and swaggers over to Len. 

“But wouldn’t you rather be here with us, anyway?” he asks. Len smirks at him, strokes a hand down the side of his face, and then pushes him down to his knees. 

Barry goes, happily.


End file.
